Freedom. The word had long since ceased to mean anything to Jack. His only freedom was to accept orders and take them without putting a bullet in his head. Sometimes, he wanted to end it. Constantly, if he was being honest. It was so hard to let his head fall on the bed every night, only to stare at the oppressive ceiling above his head. It was like the stone wanted to crush him under its weight. Some days, staring at that ceiling instead of letting his brains splatter on the wall seemed like a victory. More often than not, it didn't. Victory over his demons tasted like defeat, because one more day being alive meant one more day being Immortan Joe's accomplice. The things he did in the name of survival… Long ago, Jack had sworn he would survive to people he loved. Damn him, because he still intended to keep his word.

"Freedom". Once, the word meant something. Then, it was just one more lie. But not today. Not for the first time in many, many days. No one was free in the Wastelands, not unless one was willing to become a monster like Immortan Joe, and wasn't that thought enough to puke his guts on the ground? It was. But maybe, just maybe, Jake'd been right to cling to life for so long.

He glanced sideways at the underweight kid at his side. She was struggling to keep pace with him. The fight on the War Rig had been more exhausting for her than for him, and the adrenaline had worn off. She'd bandaged her wound on the way back, refusing Jack's help, but she'd lost a lot of blood and her limp was getting worse with every step.

Jack could still see the hatred and distrust in her eyes, but also how afraid she was. She'd hidden it from him until now, but her fatigue weakened the defences she had spent years building up.

She was afraid of him. The kid had refused to show her fear in front of Immortan Joe, and rightly so, but now she was no longer threatened by a distant warlord. Jack represented a much closer and more concrete threat. Immortan Joe had implied that Jack was not supposed to touch her and make her his thing, but what could she do if he raped her? Report him to Immortan? Her punishment could be worse than his.

Of course, her fear was unfounded. The idea of forcing himself on a woman, worse, a child, was enough to make him want to puke, but she didn't know that. Jack almost threw the entire content of his stomach onto the nearest wall.

He did not try telling her she did not have to be wary of him. He couldn't convince her, except by his actions. Jack would need to work hard to convince her he truly wanted to help. He would need to be hard with her to make her strong enough to survive. But how could he do so without becoming another monster haunting the girl's dreams? They were already so many monsters haunting his own. Jack's hand was itching. He wanted nothing more than to grab his gun and end it once and for all. But he couldn't. Jack had lost that freedom by agreeing to give her the weapons to make her dream come true. He knew what she wanted. He wanted the same thing.

To flee.

To be free.

Jack would never be. No one was free in the Wasteland, except tyrants like Immortan Joe. But there were degrees in everything, even in slavery. Perhaps the greatest freedom was the one the girl possessed, to have a goal, a destination, somewhere to run to, even if she would burn her wings and lose her life to do so. Jack envied her a little. It would be nice to have that, but he didn't. He never had, even before his parents' death and the promise they wanted him to hold.

A movement from the girl tore him from his thoughts.

"Don't turn left", he warned her when he understood she was preparing to turn toward the workshop. "I told you, we're going to Organic Mechanics."

Her posture immediately turned defensive.

"You promised I could have my gun back."

"I did."

"We had a deal."

"I wouldn't call it a deal. You're in no position to make one, but I'm not going back on my word."

"So I want my gun."

She knew what she wanted, and she had a hell of a temper. Jack firmly controlled his urge to smile. Furiosa needed a firm hand. She would cause him enough problems without him being nice to her. If she were a War Boy, he'd know what to do, but he did not know if what worked on a War Boy worked on a girl. Probably not, especially with a wild girl like her, and especially if he wanted to gain her trust. Jack understood her need to get her hands on a weapon. Furiosa probably wouldn't feel safe until she had a weapon in her hands. More likely, she wouldn't until she saw the Citadel burned to the ground, with all its inhabitants inside, Jack included.

"Listen, kid…"

Furiosa's eyes spat lightning. Jack raised his hands in a placating gesture that she didn't seem to appreciate anymore, but he got it. She didn't want him to treat her like a child, and he wouldn't.

"Furiosa," he said, putting emphasis on her name. "What do you know about the rituals surrounding the War Boys's training?"

"Things," she replied in a wary tone. "Rumours that circulate between Black Thumbs, in the workshop."

"In other words, nothing. I figured as much. War Boys don't receive pistols before their first official outing. They have a whole ceremony around it, a rite of passage of a sort. You'll probably find it ridiculous. They make a big deal out of it, but it's important to them. You can't afford to skip all the steps. Let them get the measure of you first before you carry a gun. You already have a War Boy name, so to speak, but you'll need to teach them to respect it. Never take anything for granted here. You already know that, but don't think you already know the rules. You'll need to unlearn a few things before we can start. I can't give you the gun yet, but if it's a weapon you want..."

Jack had seen her glance several times toward the knife attached to his leg. It was a very nice knife, one he paid a heavy price for the right to carry, but it wasn't the only one he had. Careful not to give the gesture the ridiculous emphasis War Boys put on everything weapon or car-related, Jack pulled another knife from his belt and handed it to Furiosa, handle first. He half expected the girl—what was he thinking, she wasn't a child, not with eyes like that, and no matter how small she was— to immediately shove it into his stomach. Instead, Furiosa clutched at it as if it were her only hope of surviving. Unfortunately, that might be the case sooner than he wanted. There were other people than Rictus Erectus to be weary of in the Citadel when you were a woman.

"Put it in your boot," he advised.

She clicked her tongue impatiently.

"I know what to do with a knife."

Furiosa. Whoever had given her that name knew what they were doing. Jack had a feeling she already regretted telling her name to Immortan. It was one of the few things she possessed. If she had lived at the Citadel these last few months, she probably knew how quickly Joe baptised and unbaptised his wives and slaves. Not for the last time, Jack wondered how close he had come to the truth when he had made up the story he had told Immortan Joe. Maybe she'd tell him someday, but he wouldn't count on that. Furiosa wouldn't willingly give up any information about herself or about the place she wanted to go. Her secret was hers. Jack would not try to learn more. The less he knew, the less he would put her in danger.

Jack watched the knife disappear into Furiosa's boot. He knew she would change its hiding place when he turned her back on her so she could surprise him if he tried anything. Jack expected nothing less and would be disappointed if she didn't.

"Going to the Organic Mechanic is non-negotiable," he said. "You're not stupid. You're not going to let some stupid infection bring you down."

You can't let your leg stop you from running away, he didn't say, but Furiosa heard him. She nodded. Jack envied that spark in her eyes. It wasn't the first time. It wouldn't be the last he would. His fire had long turned to ashes. The Citadel and Immortan Joe would try to do to her what they had done to him, hit her again and again until she was nothing but an empty shell fit only to do Immortan's bidding, but he was going to do whatever it took to make sure it didn't happen to her.

"Come on. I have other things to do before the day's over."

"We have other things to do."

"Yes, we are. You're my apprentice now. Where I go, you follow, which means we'll head back to the Fury Road as soon as we've seen the Organic. And no, you won't be able to take your pistol back on the way. Later, when you've shown them you're not here by chance. A Praetorian isn't a dumb War Boy. He takes care of his wound. Are you a War Boy or a Praetorian apprentice?"

He expected her to snap at him, but she stopped in the middle of the hallway, still reluctant. If she'd been a War Boy, he would have gotten angry and punished her, but she wasn't a crazy dumb War Boy. Patience may work better than anger with her.

"Well?"

"The Organic Mechanic... He might remember me."

Jack didn't expect that. He looked around in case someone was listening.

"Not here," he decided. For now, the hallway was empty, but that wouldn't last. "The hallways near the Organic Mechanic's workshop will be more discreet."

It was true. Anyone with even a modicum of intelligence carefully avoided the workshop and its sole inhabitant. Except after a raid, no one got too close, just in case he wanted to experience something or needed more blood for a praetorian or an imperator. Furiosa must have known that because she reluctantly followed him.

Once near the Organic Mechanic's workshop, after he made sure no one would hear their conversation, Jack leaned against a wall and nodded at Furiosa to speak. She hesitated again.

"I can't help you or advise you if you don't give me any material to work with. Why would he remember you, and what exactly are you afraid of?"

Furiosa bit her lip, her eyes fixed straight on a flaw in the wall so as not to have to look at him. Her entire body was tense, as if she were preparing to jump. Jack did not doubt that if she didn't like his reaction, she would try to stick the knife he had just given her into his guts. Maybe he should have waited before giving it to her.

"Eight hundred days ago, a child disappeared from the Vault where Joe locks up his wives," Furiosa finally said.

Jack remembered that night. He was only Jack then, not a praetorian, but already high enough to be informed of that breach of security. Heads had rolled that night. Not his, of course. He had nothing to do with the security of the Vault, but his superior died, which had indirectly helped him climb the ladder to his current position. More heads would have rolled if Rictus Erectus had not been the first culprit, a detail only praetorians and imperators were informed of. Since then, they weren't supposed to accept an order from Immortan Joe's cadet without referring to Scrotus or Immortan first. A decision that should have been made much earlier. The man was a moron. Of course, Scotus wasn't much better. Smarter, yes, but a homicidal maniac too.

"It was you."

"Yes." Furiosa's intonation said she would have preferred to get a tooth pulled rather than confess that. "Rictus did not recognise me earlier, but the Organic Mechanic could. He doesn't know my name, but..."

"How many times has he seen you in the Vault?"

"Two times, maybe three? But he knew me from before. He might recognise me."

"Not likely", Jack decided after a moment of reflection.

"He might," Furiosa insisted. "I'm not talking about two or three times he saw me in passing."

"The girl you're talking about is dead," Jack interrupted her. "They found a few stands of her hair on a bush. Cannibals ate the rest of her, even though they never confessed. She's long gone from everyone's memory, even Immortan's. The Organic is only interested in himself and his status. He has no reason to recognise you if you don't give him one."

Something immediately untied in Furiosa's shoulders, but she still looked unconvinced.

"They believed it then? That I died?"

"Praetorians and Imperators searched the Citadel for days and found nothing. Of course, they didn't tell me what they were looking for. Where did you hide?"

"Under a walkway, outside. I stayed there for five days. Afterward, I stole some stuff, hid among the workers, and got assigned to the Black Thumbs. No one talked about me, and I didn't ask. I didn't want to attract attention."

"Smart."

Jack already learned the kid knew what she wanted and had what it took to survive the training he was going to inflict on her, but he was still impressed. It took more than courage to survive several days without water or food hanging from a metal bar. It took faith; it took despair. And it took just as much courage to come out of this precarious hiding place and hide yourself among your enemies for eight hundred days, all the while carefully planning your escape. Jack wasn't sure what her plans were until the Octoboss attacked. Stealing a motorcycle, maybe, or perhaps a car, while they were busy negotiating the cargo. Yes, he was very impressed.

"As I said, Immortan didn't want to draw attention to such a failure, and he has enough wives that losing a potential wife, too young to do the job, wouldn't hurt him too much. They kept quiet about the search. When they found nothing, Immortan sent down praetorians to question the wretches at the foot of the Citadel. They denied everything, but once they found some hair near the cannibal's lair, it wasn't hard to guess what happened."

"I cut them. Kept them as a wig."

Resourceful and thoughtful. Furiosa had a much higher potential than the War Boys who usually joined the Citadel. He wouldn't have to curb her suicidal madness like he had to with the War Boys when they discovered a new tumour. And Furiosa came better prepared than the sick children the Wretched at the foot of the Citadel offered them in exchange for water and food. For once, Jack had good material to work with, pure steel, not low-grade metal melted and remelted until it became brittle.

And now, he knew more about Furiosa. She wouldn't voluntarily give more, not until he earned her trust, and maybe even then. To her, Jack was the enemy. He understood. It wasn't like he talked about his parents.

"As I said, that girl's dead. We won't speak of her again. If the Organic does not know your name, I don't think he'll make the connection, unless you are stupid enough to point him in the right direction, which I doubt. You know how to keep quiet, so keep doing that. Show you're useful. The Organic will have no reason to denounce you, and Immortan no reason to slit your throat or lock you up in the Vault."

Furiosa nodded, looking a little comforted, but no more keen to go into the Organic Mechanic's lair. Jack wasn't thrilled either. No one in their right mind would want to spend more time than necessary in his lair. The Organic cared about results and efficiency, not minimizing his patients' suffering. Immortan and his wives alone received painkillers. At least she wasn't protesting anymore, so Jack gently pushed her in the right direction.

"One more thing," he said as they reached his door. "We both obey someone, like all the inhabitants of the Citadel. His name is Immortan or Immortan Joe."

Furiosa gave him an annoyed look.

"I know that."

"Immortan Joe," Jack insisted. "Not just Joe, like you called him. Immortan doesn't like insolence. Don't make him regret the indulgence he showed you, or he'll make you regret it, and probably me too. You can hate him, you can dream of seeing him dead all you want, but even inside your head, call him Immortan. You don't want your tongue to slip in front of the wrong person. Got it?"

Furiosa nodded warily and looked away. Jack could understand her resentment. Immortan already possessed their bodies. He demanded their loyalty and now they had to let him enter their minds? But Jack knew he was right to tell her that. To give the illusion of unwavering loyalty, you had to blend in completely with the character, to follow the fanatics in their delirium. To scream with the madmen a second too late was already suspect. Only the Praetorians and Imperators could do without these demonstrations of blind faith. Immortan wanted more than obsequiousness from his lieutenants, but to rise to that level, one needed to show it for hundreds of days. Too bad if the price to be more than a disposable slave was to go to bed every night with the impression you were drowning in mud. Too bad if Jack felt his humanity leaving him bit by bit until he would be just another soulless dog, killing without remorse for an unworthy god.

He would spare Furiosa that if he could. He probably wouldn't succeed, but that wouldn't stop him from trying. The nausea, which Jack had forced himself to ignore since he had understood that he had a girl in front of him and not a Black Thumb, came back in force. He had spared her Immortan's assaults, and potentially a horrible death by giving birth to his monstrous offspring, but spare her a slow descent into Hell was nothing but a dream. Either he helped her escape before the fire disappeared from her eyes, or he would have only offered Immortan a new instrument of death. Jack knew he'd have to fight the urge to shoot himself even more often than before.

The Organic workshop smelled of death and suffering. His occupant didn't seem to mind, but it took Jack and Furiosa by the throat. Jack made her pass behind him again, but kept a hand on her shoulder in case she tried to run away. The Organic was busy checking a War Boy's dressing. Hearing them, he looked up.

"What do we have here? Praetorian Jack, and less damaged than I heard."

"Rumours are just that, rumours. The faster they spread, the less accurate they are."

"For sure. According to rumour, Immortan Joe was going to beat you to death for damaging his War Rig."

"No, I'm going back to finish the delivery, as soon as I've gathered enough men, and seen to our injuries."

"Meaning?"

Jack pushed Furiosa forward, a little roughly. It was for the show, but he still hated himself.

"This one's injured."

The Organic removed his blood-stained glasses and gloves, then pushed the War Boy out of his chair.

"You found Immortan a wife? A little young, but I can understand why he wasn't too harsh with you."

"She's not a wife. She doesn't have what it takes."

"She looks a little young to say if she's sterile or not. Or is she deformed down there?"

Jack crossed his arms over his chest. He had always wanted to punch that butcher who called himself a healer. He kept a firm hand on his emotions, careful not to show how the man disgusted him.

"She doesn't have what it takes," he repeated, gritting his teeth. "If you want more explanations, ask Immortan."

"All right, I was just asking. If she's not to be a Wife, what am I supposed to do with her then?"

"Fix her leg. She's going on the expedition."

"Her? A girl?"

The Organic gave the girl an incredulous look. She frowned but kept her head low. Fortunately, he didn't seem to recognise her. Jack could have sighed with relief. He had not been so sure he wanted Furiosa to believe.

"I don't tell you how to run your business. Don't question how I lead my troops, or Immortan's orders."

"All right, all right. Nothing wrong with making small talk. As long as Immortan agrees..."

"He does. Nothing's done without his agreement in the Citadel."

"Well said. In what condition do you need her?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw the War Boy leave the Organic's workshop, more or less in good health. The boy would spread the news right away. In less than an hour, every War Boy in the Citadel would know that Jack was taking a girl to the Fury Road instead of one of them. Perfect. Tempers would have time to explode and calm down before they came back down. Jack pulled a stool with his foot and sat down.

"I need her to do more than drag herself around on her bad leg. I need her to fight."

"Today?"

"Yes. Whatever you do, make sure she's good for the next six hours. I need her to survive the day. Weigh her, too."

"No need. She's too skinny and will fly away if there's enough wind. Is that enough of an answer?"

"No. Weigh her. I want her on a special diet and I need to know her weight."

"All right. You're the one who wants to burden yourself with that. Who am I to question your choices? Only the Organic. I'll get the scales."

When the Organic moved to the next room, Furiosa looked back at Jack.

"When the Wretched give their sons to Immortan, the first thing we do is to weigh them. We need to know how many pounds they lack to make decent fighters. The Organic will do the same with you. We'll see how many pounds you need and you'll get to an extra portion at each meal, and even extra mother's milk until you get into shape. Don't thank me. It's the same for everyone. Beware, you'll need to fight others to keep your share. Bigger and stronger War Boys than you will try to take it from you at the first opportunity."

"Let them try."

Her determination drew a smile from Jack.

"Most of them are stupid, but they're more vicious than you think. They didn't survive this long for nothing. Don't be afraid to hit hard, and to use tricks. They'll respect you more if you show your cunning."

"No, they won't. They'll feel humiliated because I'm a girl."

"You may be right, but I'm not wrong either. They'll respect you when they see you can defend yourself and fight back. Eventually. Anyway, don't be afraid to fight back."

Furiosa glared at him.

"I'm not afraid. But you, do you even know what you're doing?"

Jack had no right answer to give her. Fortunately, the Organic's return spared him from having to find an answer.

After weighing her, the Organic asked Furiosa to take off her shirt to check the condition of her ribs. She complied. Jack half-turned to give the girl some privacy but still kept a close eye on the Organic. Doing so, he could not help but notice the tattoo on his left arm, and recognise stars, a little too orderly to be just a pretty drawing.

A map, made of stars. Before civilization disappeared into ashes, the ancients knew how to write and read this kind of map. Where had she learned? Where did this map lead? Jack wouldn't ask. He had understood some parts of her plan when he'd seen a young woman on the War Rig. Jack even expected her to put a gun to his head at the fight's end, despite her plan's futility. He had made similar ones during his first months at the Citadel, but he never tried because there was nowhere to run, nothing left other than the Citadel, the Bullet Farm, and Gaztown. But Furiosa had a map, not just a goal, but a map. Maybe she wouldn't end up as another dried-up corpse the sand would bury in a few days. She had what Jack never had.

A destination.

She put back her top, her relief clear on her face while the Organic examined her leg. Jack noticed she covered her tattoo first, but the Organic wasn't a curious man and didn't ask. Jack watched them both closely, wondering how many other secrets she hid and how to help her. Furiosa was wild, but she knew how to keep a cool head. She also knew not to talk about their plans inside the Citadel if they wanted to live.

Jack's heart beat faster. Running away. It was real, not just a promise, but the start of a plan. He hadn't allowed himself to think of his future as anything else than Immortan's dog since he was Furiosa's age, but now he did. He wanted to laugh and cry. How stupid was that? Hope made people weaker than despair. It was awful to have something to lose.

At least Furiosa wasn't easily breakable. She knew how to shoot and how to kill. She had good instincts. In fact, she was better material than most War Boys. Jack wouldn't have to teach basic safety rules, nor unteach her the suicidal instincts that most instructors instilled in these kids before even teaching them how to hold a weapon properly. And even if he kept giving her advice on how to better hide her hatred, she had already hidden it successfully for hundreds of days. He was doing so because it worried him to see her pushed into the spotlight. Everyone would spy on her and judge her. Any mistake would be fatal to them both. Jack still remembered the fate of the last two men that Immortan had accused of treason. Immortan drowned the first man in a barrel of water as an example. The second had been skinned alive, then lowered by a harness to the bottom of the Citadel, where the Wretched had finished dismembering him. The mass of flesh was still bemoaning when they feasted on him. As Immortan's latest praetorian, Jack had been given the honour of removing the first ounce of skin. He waited until the evening until he vomited all his stomach content and it took days before he could force himself to eat lizard meat.

"Here," the Organic said, bluntly stapling a bandage around Furiosa's knee. "She's good to go. She'll be on a supplemental half ration per meal for the next fifteen days. If she's still underweight by then, come back here. In the meantime, here she is, freshly repaired and ready to die for Immortan."

Furiosa nodded, her expression convincing enough even for Jack's trained gaze. He got up.

"Let's go. We still have a lot to do."

He stepped through the Organic's door barely half a second after her, just as eager as she was to escape the confined atmosphere of the workshop and the Organic's brutal ministrations.

Once outside, Jack turned to her.

"Now that you're good for another fight, we'll need to assemble a team. Time to make the journey back, deliver the goods, and salvage what we can from the wrecking. It'll be pitch black when we get back. But no matter the time, your training begins tomorrow at dawn. When was your last real training? And I'm not talking about the few moves you could repeat while hiding in a corner of the mechanic's shop. I'm talking about real training, with a teacher to correct your mistakes."

"Over eight hundred days ago."

"Then we'll start with hand-to-hand training."

"I know how to use my fists," Furiosa protested.

Jack shook his head and indicated that she should take the first staircase to their right.

"I'm sure you've received some training," he continued, thinking as he spoke. "You can shoot, that's for sure. But in over eight hundred days, as you say, your body has grown unaccustomed to this training. You got tired too quickly during the attack, right? And there's something else you're forgetting. In eight hundred days, your body has changed a lot. You've grown. Your centre of gravity is different, your strength is not the same. You've neglected some muscles and developed others. Above all, the size and weight ratio between you and your opponents has changed. You're going to have to unlearn a lot of things before you can relearn them. The good news is that it will be easier for you in other areas. I'd say you'll need to relearn how to fight with a blade, but not with a gun."

"Why not start with these weapons?"

"Because War Boys will think you need to be taught a lesson, but they won't start with knives. While we're on that subject, you will not like this, but from now on, you will sleep in my room, at the foot of my bed and with the door open. I can't let you sleep with the War Boys, but you have done nothing to earn your own room. I can't leave you at the mercy of the other Praetorians, and we can't risk an accusation of promiscuity either. You heard Immortan. And so, you will only risk reprisals from jealous War Boys during days and you'll rest at night."

From her greenish face, Furiosa hated the idea as much as he did, but knew she had no choice. Survival and escape were at this price.

"You have your knife," Jack reminded. "By the end of the week, you will also have your pistol. Use them on me if you need them."

"What's the point? You disarmed me easily."

"I expected you to try that move. It was predictable, but we are going to make you unpredictable. This is another one of these lessons I am going to inflict on you. I'll go hard on you, but I won't attack you. You don't have to believe me, but even if I did, I will give you the tools you need to get your revenge."

"Very well. But if you lied to me, I'll emasculate you myself."

"I'm counting on it."

"What else will you teach me?"

"Strategy. Survival. Shooting. How to get up and fight even with a broken arm, and I'll break it myself if necessary. Whatever's necessary. Do you know how to drive?"

"I learned to ride a bike. It was a long time ago."

"You'll have to refresh your memory, then. The War Rig doesn't drive like you drive a bike."

Furiosa's eyes widened. Jack shook his head imperceptibly to show that he wasn't crazy enough to try escaping with the War Rig. It wouldn't be hard to steal a motorcycle for her, when she was ready, maybe even a car. She'd need food, water, and ammunition. Jack could also organise that. They had time before he had trained Furiosa with all the weapons she needed to escape successfully.

Jack would get her out of there, whatever sacrifices he had to make to get there, whatever compromises were required of him. He would keep her out of reach of the clutches of Immortan, Scrotus, Rictus, and all the Praetorians. They'd tell he wanted to keep her for himself, to forge her in his image and use her. They could accuse him of whatever they wanted, he didn't care. Furiosa would probably hate him before a hundred days had passed, but he didn't care either. He would keep her alive, and he would help her escape.

Jack had made a promise to his parents. To survive, at any cost. His parents had been soldiers, enlisted just before the world went out in flames and blood. Civilization had died before they could save it, and they had spent their lives wandering in search of a cause worth dying for, never finding it. They never did, but they had Jack on the way. They had made him their cause, they had died for him, and before forcing him to flee, they had made him swear he'd do anything to survive. Jack had obeyed, even when the idea of surviving at the cost of his soul made him nauseous. Now he could believe he survived for a reason. He had found the cause they never did. Jack had survived to help that girl save herself and find those she had lost, whoever they were. They could all be dead by now if she hadn't seen them in over eight hundred days, but she had hope, and it was a precious thing in the Wastelands. Jack's hope had died in the Citadel. Hers would flourish. Jack had survived to serve unjust cause after unjust cause, but Furiosa's escape was not one. It was his chance to make up for all the murders he had been complicit in, all the slaves he had brought back to the Citadel.

Redemption. Who knew it tasted like tears?

"You really going to do what you said you would."

Furiosa couldn't hide the wonder and disbelief in her voice. Jack understood. The Wastelands never gave gifts like that. He would be wary, too.

"Help you escape, give you the weapons and supplies you need to do so? Yes. It may take you thousands of days before you're ready, but when you leave, you will have a chance, not today on the way."

"What do you want in return?"

What did he want? To go with her, to find a place that wasn't the Citadel, a place good enough to take roots in the heart of a child for eight hundred days and more and keep her alive.

"Nothing," he lied as they entered the room the War Boys were assembling for their expedition. "Now, watch what I do. When we're on the War Rig, I want you to tell me how I choose my men, their weaknesses, and their strengths. Consider this your first strategy lesson. Also, look and write their weapons, ammunition, and any other information you think your leader should know. I'll check, and you don't want to see what I do to those who don't follow my orders."

Furiosa nodded and took her place right behind him, like a respectful apprentice and not a wild girl planning her escape. Jack liked how she stood. He flung the door open and bellowed his orders so that everyone could hear them. It was time to help Furiosa earn the respect she would need to achieve her goals, even if it was already obvious that it would be a very long fight.

In the end, Jack wasn't even completely lying when he told Furiosa that he expected nothing from her. He didn't expect this invitation, he wouldn't ask for it, didn't deserve it. Jack knew what he deserved. He wasn't like Furiosa. He'd become one of the killers long ago. He'd been the doom of a dozen women and forgot how many men he killed. His redemption, the only redemption he could hope for, was to keep Furiosa's dream alive and get his hands dirty in her place. And he would do just that.